by Karla Doyle
“Stop beating yourself up and go home.” Sam gestured toward the door. “I’ll handle everything on this end.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Her regular doctor can’t get her in, so I have to take her to the hospital. No telling how long that’ll take. I might not get back here tonight.”
“I’ve got you covered, now get going.”
Brian nodded, grabbed his keys and wallet from a drawer beneath the counter, then headed out like a man on a mission.
Covering Brian’s evening clients would mean postponing the visit to Short’n’Sweet, since Leigh’s bakery closed at six. He’d waited this long to make a move, one more day was no big deal. Until he pictured her face, the way she’d checked him out at the coffee shop, before she’d recognized him. The way her face had lit up when she did. The desire in her eyes each time they touched.
He made his way to the changeroom. Swapped his clothes for a club t-shirt and sport pants, shoving his thickening cock to one side in the process. Sport pants hid chicken legs and weak glutes, not hard-ons. No more thinking about Leigh while he was on the clock. Piece of cake.
Cake. Bakery. Leigh.
This was going to be a long, hard night. Emphasis on hard.
SAM
With less than half an hour to spare, Sam found a parking spot up the street from Leigh’s shop. Covering Brian’s schedule had stretched from Wednesday afternoon into evening, then all day Thursday and most of Friday. Not that Sam blamed the guy for wanting to be by Cassie’s side, but man, covering Brian’s client appointments as well as his own had made for a couple of long-ass days. When his friend had shown up at the gym unexpectedly a while ago, Sam hadn’t declined Brian’s offer to take off.
He pocketed his keys and repositioned his hat while walking up the street. Waiting to see Leigh had given him time to think. He’d hooked up with single moms before, but he’d never wanted to add Leigh to that list.
Oh, he wanted to have sex with her. Had since day one. Spending several hours together every week, month after month, had allowed him to get to know her. The more he’d learned, the more he’d liked her mind and sense of humor as much as her shapely body.
Hadn’t taken him long to realize she was relationship material, a sometime-down-the-road woman. Not somebody he’d been ready for back then. Now, though… Maybe it was time to check out that road.
He pulled the door and stepped into the bakery. Warm, sugary-scented air surrounded him, making his stomach groan. No sign of Leigh or any other adults, only a kid sitting on a stool behind a diner-style counter, with a sketchpad balanced on her lap. Whoever she was, the little girl didn’t acknowledge his presence.
Until his stomach growled again, longer and louder than the first time.
“Better give that thing a cookie,” she said, pointing toward a covered tray on the counter without giving him a glance.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
The girl paused whatever she was working on and looked up, squarely meeting his gaze. “Don’t worry, they’re free.” Totally deadpan. Saucy kid.
“All right.” He lifted the clear glass dome and plucked a cookie from the tray. “Thank you.” He bit off a third of the cookie to be polite, then inhaled the remainder because it was the best damn cookie he’d ever tasted.
The little girl continued watching him as he swallowed the last bite. “Guess you’d better have another one.”
“I think you’re right.” The second cookie went down as fast as the first. He wasn’t usually one for sweets, but if the kid turned her head, he could devour the rest of the batch in about sixty seconds.
Based on the girl’s smirk, she read minds in addition to drawing pictures. “I can get your order,” she said, setting her sketchpad aside and sliding off the stool. “What name is it under?”
“I haven’t placed an order yet.”
“Then I’ll get my mom to help you.”
“Actually, I’m here to see Leigh.”
“Same thing,” she said while walking to a door at the rear of the room. She pushed the swinging door open a crack and called, “Mommy…customer.”
At Leigh.
“You’re Lennox?” he asked when the girl hopped back onto the stool.
“Yup.”
Shit. All the times Leigh had referred to her kid, she’d either said “Lennox” or “my ten-year-old”. She’d never said daughter, and he’d always assumed son.
“Can I help y—” The voice sweeter than any cookies stopped short, as did the voice’s owner. “Sam. Hi. What are you doing here?”
“Hey. I came to buy something.” Smooth opener, not so much. Her kid—her daughter—being here had thrown him off his game.
“Okay.” Leigh’s gaze shifted to the girl, whose full attention had already returned to her drawing. “Honey, would you go in the back and keep an eye on the timer for me?”
“Sure, Mommy.”
Leigh patted the girl’s head as she passed. Alone with him in the front of the store, Leigh wiped her hands on an apron that was obviously utilitarian, not decorative, and came around to his side of the counter.
“You have a daughter,” he said.
“I do.”
“I always figured you had a son, because of the name.”
She shook her head, her lips curving into a shy smile. “From the beginning, we planned to use my surname as the baby’s first name, regardless of gender. It’s not a typical girl’s name, but if you knew Lennox, you’d see that it suits her.”
“I’m sure.” Nice response, idiot. Man, he was rolling on the suave today.
The we planned in Leigh’s statement had thrown him for another loop. She’d never been married, he knew that much. He’d assumed her pregnancy had been an accident, or the product of a now-defunct former relationship. Her explanation made it sound the opposite of accidental.
He’d done way too much assuming where Leigh was concerned.
“So,” she said, fidgeting with her apron. “Tell me what you’re interested in and I’ll show you what I can do.”
He choked on a laugh, at which she shook her head. “Sorry. What can I say? I’m a guy, you’re hot, and that was one perfectly dirty offer.”
Another head shake came his way, then she turned and leaned over the counter to retrieve a large binder. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for checking out my cupcakes and cookies.”
Jesus, that ass. He tilted his head, angling for a better view. “I had your cookies when I came in and they were amazing. Gotta say, so are your cupcakes.”
Her head jerked in his direction, catching him in a full-blown, wide-eyed ogling of her backside. “Were you just—” Pink flooded her face and she shook her head.
He shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, Leigh, I was.”
Another binder landed on the counter as she straightened and faced him, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed over a pair of nice, full breasts. Damn, that spunk. So cute. And hot. With her kid in the next room, meaning he needed to behave. Wasn’t going to be easy.
LEIGH
“If you weren’t you, Sam, I’d think you were hitting on me.”
“You’d think right.” He winked, of course. Typical Sam—sexy, playful, charming.
What woman was immune to that? Certainly not her. “Uh-huh. What are you really here for?”
“You.”
And she’d thought today couldn’t get wilder. The bridezilla from Wednesday hadn’t had a single complaint about her engagement-party cake when she picked it up. A last-minute order she shouldn’t have agreed to, but couldn’t afford to turn down, had fallen into her lap. Then Tim had called, asking to take Lennox to the cottage to celebrate the start of summer vacation, meaning Leigh could work on that rush order until the wee hours, guilt-free. Now Sam was standing in her store, claiming to be here for her. Whatever that meant.
But God, look at him. Broken-in jeans rode low on his trim hips. A black, V-neck t-shirt showed off his hard, muscular upper body. The same olive-gr
een cap he’d worn in the coffee shop completed the sexy-young-stud look. His smile and comments made her stomach do backflips on top of the somersaults that’d started when she pushed through the kitchen door.
The coffee shop had been a coincidence. This meeting was intentional—and entirely Sam’s doing.
“I would like to buy something too.”
A business transaction. She could work with that. “Okay.” She flipped one binder open. Attempted to reclaim her normal, businesslike posture, even though his innocent flirting had made her hotter than the ovens in the kitchen. “What’s the occasion? Wedding or engagement?”
“Neither.”
“Haven’t found your happily-ever-after girl?”
He chuckled. “Not since Wednesday, no. Still looking.” Totally teasing her, but it was her fault, she’d initiated the topic.
“Birthday? Graduation? Getting the guys together to watch the fights?”
“Nothing like that.” He moved closer, covered her hand on the book. “Something small and simple for a friend. Maybe a box of those cookies your daughter introduced me to?”
“Oh, well…” She kept her eyes on his face, but it didn’t help her concentrate on baked goods. Hard to do with his fingers stroking her hand, as he had in the booth at the coffee shop. “I don’t actually sell those cookies. I don’t have anything pre-made and ready to buy. Less risk of waste.”
“I can’t imagine they’d go to waste.”
“Me either, since I’d probably eat all the leftovers rather than throw them away. Then they’d be going to my waist.”
“That wouldn’t be all bad. You’d need to hire me again, meaning I’d have an excuse to spend time with you regularly.”
She ought to pull her hand away and laugh at his innocent flirtation. She didn’t. “How soon do you need the cookies for your friend? I’m going to be baking tonight anyway, I could make you some, if you don’t mind waiting a couple of hours. Not actually waiting around, of course. That’s not what I meant. You could come back later to pick them up. Or in the morning, since it’s Friday and you probably have plans.” Great, she’d become a rambling mess. From a simple touch. She really needed to work on that getting laid soon plan.
“Or I could wait, hang out with you. We can talk while you bake. I’ll help, if you tell me what to do.” His eyes drifted to the kitchen door, then back to her face. “Unless that’s a bad idea with your daughter here?”
“She won’t be here. She’s spending the weekend with her dad. He’ll be here to pick her up any minute.”
Sam trailed his fingers up her arm, sending sparks racing along her skin. “Is that a yes to hanging out?”
“It’s Friday night. Don’t you have a date?”
“I don’t know, Leigh, do I?”
Chapter 2
SAM
His question didn’t get an answer. Leigh jumped back a good meter or more as the shop’s kitchen and front doors both opened, practically in unison.
“Daddy!” The happy cry preceded Lennox’s run at the man who’d walked in.
“There’s my girl.” A tall, lean man caught Lennox in a hug, lifting her off her feet and twirling her before setting her on solid ground. He kissed the girl on the head, then settled his attention on Leigh, and by default, Sam. “I apologize for the interruption.”
“No apology needed.” Sam stepped forward, hand extended. “Sam Jacobs, I’m a friend of Leigh’s.”
Only the briefly raised eyebrows gave away the man’s surprise. He accepted Sam’s hand and gave it a strong shake. “Tim Irwin.”
A buzzer in the kitchen had Leigh hustling toward the back of the bakery. “That’s me. Hang on a sec before you take off, you two.” She disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing seconds later, covered nearly to the elbow in black oven mitts. “Give me a squeeze before you go to the cottage without me, kiddo.”
“I’ll feed the cat and leave a couple of lights on at the house since you’re going to be here a while,” Tim said while Lennox enthusiastically fulfilled her mother’s request.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” Tim waved his daughter over. “C’mere, Len. Let’s go kick-start summer vacation.”
“Don’t forget to text me when you get there.”
Tim acknowledged Leigh with a nod, then left with Lennox. Hand in hand, father and daughter waved until they were out of sight.
Quite the domestic scene. If Tim had walked over and kissed Leigh, it would have been a completely natural-looking gesture. Leigh’s comment about them going to the cottage without her, Tim’s casual statement about feeding the cat and leaving lights on at home… Leigh and Tim could easily be a couple. But they weren’t, right?
One way to be sure. “You’re pretty tight with your ex.”
“Tim’s not my ex.”
Damn. Not the answer he wanted to hear. “Then I owe you an apology. I wouldn’t have hit on you if I’d known.”
“You what? No, it’s not like that with Tim. It’s complicated, but we’re not together. Wait—you were really hitting on me, not just being your normal flirtatious self? Why?” Babbling and waving those giant oven mitts at him. Totally adorable.
Holding back had never been his thing. No point starting now. “Because I’ve been attracted to you since you marched up to me at the gym and asked whether personal training was just well-marketed hype, or if it was actually worth the money.” He cut around the counter and closed the distance between them by half. “And I may flirt with female clients sometimes because I know they appreciate the attention, but it’s always been the real deal with you.”
Her wide-eyed gaze tracked his movements as he took hold of the oven mitts and yanked them off, a soft gasp leaving her parted lips when the tug brought her forward, planting her palms against his chest.
“Now, are you currently off the market, or is it okay for me to hit on you again?”
“It’s okay. More than okay.”
“Right answer.” He chucked the black mitts on the counter. Cupped the back of her neck with one hand, palmed the small of her back with the other and brought her tight to his body.
“Oh my god,” she whispered as his lips brushed hers.
He pulled back enough to look at her without both of them going cross-eyed. “Something wrong?”
“No, not at all.”
“Good.” He dipped in again, only to be thwarted by a soft gasp against his mouth.
“Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “Okay, I’m good now. Really.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. “Mmmhmm, yes.”
“Good.”
Another gasp slipped from her lips as they almost connected—again. “Sorry. It’s just that…you know, you’re kissing me.”
“Not yet, but I’m trying.”
“I guess I’m nervous.”
“But you want me to kiss you?”
“God yes,” she said. “You have no idea how much.”
“Pretty sure I do.” He rolled his hips forward, put some grind into it to be sure she felt the hard-on she’d caused.
“Oh, that’s, um, significant.”
“And I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
“You mean it gets—”
“Bigger.” He quickly kissed just her bottom lip. “Harder.” He teased her mouth with the beginning of a full kiss before quickly retreating. “Less polite.”
“Sam…” She curled her leg around his hamstring, tilted her hips forward.
Not good enough. He lifted her and turned, deposited her on the countertop and stepped between her thighs. Pressed his bulging zipper where his bare cock would love to be and rocked against her. Jesus, the little moan in his ear. The smell of her skin and hair, tickling his nose. Made him harder than rock and hornier than fuck. And he still hadn’t kissed her. Not fully. Not the way he wanted to.
Another buzzer went off behind the kitchen door.
“Guess that’s our cue to get to work,” he said against her l
ips, then took one incredibly difficult step backward.
“But, the kiss—”
“Isn’t something I want to rush through because your cake might burn.”
“As long as you don’t forget.”
“Impossible.” He caught her hand as she slid from the counter. Threaded their fingers together and squeezed, grinning when she squeezed back. Natural and easy, yet still loaded with electricity.
“Would you mind turning the deadbolt and flipping the sign on the door to ‘Closed’?”
“You got it. Anything else I can do?”
She walked backward toward the kitchen, her eyes freely traveling up and down his body, a wicked little smile dressing her pretty lips. “I can think of a few things.” Then she bumped the door with her hip and disappeared from sight.
All-fucking-right. He locked up, then followed her through the swinging door. The kitchen was small, not much larger than the front portion of her store, and it was bright and immaculate. White walls and tiled floor, stainless steel everywhere else, yet it didn’t have the sterile feel he’d expected. Probably because of the baker, currently smiling over her shoulder at him as she slid a cake pan onto the counter, alongside two others.
Coming here was definitely the right move.
“You look cute in a hairnet.”
Her light laughter made the kitchen even brighter. “I’m sure. It’s the hot new style for first dates. Makes you want to kiss me even more, I bet.”
Crazy thing was, it did. Because she didn’t give a shit what he might think, didn’t act embarrassed or make excuses. More of that sexy confidence he’d told her he liked. Genuine confidence, the kind that comes with experience and maturity, not bullshit superficiality. Plenty of women were hot and knew it—his little black book could attest to that—but few were truly comfortable with themselves.